What Happens When an Agent Fancies You
by Wallflower-In-Narnia
Summary: ""I still hate you," Q said as he reached up and cupped Bond's face in his hands. He brought their foreheads together and stared deep into James' deep blue eyes." Set in the Skyfall era. 00Q.


**A/N**

**Yay! My first slash fic! Let me know it there's any mistakes or anything like that. Thanks to all of you who have been following me or who have favorited my stories. It means so much to me. Carry on then. :D**

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It's cold outside and a light rain has just begun to fall softly from the sky. There's a tall man on the sidewalk and he's running. Stumbling through the dark and crying, a hand raised to wipe at his eyes and cheeks. The raindrops mingle with his tears and spatter across the lens of his glasses. Finally he slows to walk and then stops altogether to slump against a wall in utter defeat. There's someone following him however. Let's take a look...

The day had started out completely normal for Q. He woke up late, got dressed, forgot breakfast, nearly missed the tube, tripped on the front step of MI6 and nearly dropped his bag which contained his very precious laptop, and eventually got to the Q branch in one piece (surprisingly.) He made himself cup of earl grey in his favorite mug and then got down to business. The day dragged on and Q completely forgot about his lunch break. Finally though, he was able to go home. He was starving and decided to book it for home as fast as he could. But as he walked past the gun range on his way out, he heard shots. So, he pushed open the doors quietly and slipped inside. He dropped his bag on a nearby bench and ventured further inside. It was Bond. He was alone and shooting angrily at a test dummy. Q frowned.  
"Bond?" He called softly.  
He didn't turn around.  
"Bond!" He yelled.  
Bond stopped shooting, pulled off his earmuffs, and turned around, smiling when he saw Q standing there, his hair messy from a day of running an aggravated hand through it and his dark green cardigan rucked up at the bottom. Q frowned again.  
"What are you staring at Bond?"  
"Nothing." He responded hurriedly. Why are you here?"  
Now it was Q's turn to be embarrassed.  
"I heard shooting and I came to have a look and see who it was. Is that a problem? Because you know, you're not the only one who works here."  
"I know."  
Bond searched for Q's eyes behind his glasses and when he found them, they were even a prettier green than he remembered.  
"Alright well, I'm going to go home. See you tomorrow Bond."  
"Wait."  
"Bond, I haven't had breakfast or lunch today. I've been surviving on tea since this morning. I'm going home to eat now."  
"Come out to dinner with me."  
"I'd rather not."  
And since when did Bond get so close? Q wondered.  
"Come on Q."  
"Or, you could go back to angrily shooting things, I could leave, and we could pretend that none of this even happened."  
"Are you willing to pretend none of this ever happened Q?"  
"Yes... Wait... What's that supposed to mean?"  
But Bond was too quick. He stepped forward and closed the space between them. He took a hold of Q's waist and pulled him closer.  
"Bond..." He warned.  
And there, in front of God and the security cameras, Bond leaned in and kissed Q. Q's eyes flew open in shock as his brain registered what had just happened but fluttered closed again after he realized just how soft Bond's lips felt on his. When James gently pulled back, Q's hands flew to his face in horror. His delicate fingers closed over his mouth and nose and his green eyes filled with tears.  
"Q?" Whispered Bond.  
But Q had already turned his back, picked his messenger bag off the bench where he left it, and fled the building. Without thinking twice, James grabbed his jacket, put the gun away, and followed after him. He found Q slumped against a wall, his head in his hands and shoulders heaving. A light rain had begun to fall over the city of London and Q's dark hair was plastered to his neck and forehead already. Bond sighed and went over to him.  
"Q?" He murmured.  
"I hate you. Go away."  
"You don't hate me."  
"Yes I do."  
"Why?"  
"Because you didn't mean it. The kiss. You don't mean it."  
"How to you know?"  
"Because I've seen you on missions. You leave your earphone on sometimes, you know that?"  
Bond groaned inwardly.  
"Those are missions Q. What's done has to be done. This isn't a mission though. This is normal, regular life. I meant it. Truly."  
Q lifted his head slowly.  
"Can I trust you?"  
"Yes."  
"You're not just... Going to drop everything and leave me?"  
"Why would I?"  
"I don't know... You're just... You're James Bond. It's how you work."  
"Not today. And not as long as you're here."  
Bond couldn't tell if it was tears or rain streaking down Q's face.  
"You mean that?" He whispered.  
"Always."  
"I still hate you," Q said as he reached up and cupped Bond's face in his hands. He brought their foreheads together and stared deep into James' deep blue eyes. He had been telling the truth about everything. And that was when Q brought their lips together in a gentle, delicate, and almost frightened kiss. Bond pressed harder with his lips and Q sighed into them. He took Q's waist in his hands and felt slender arms snake around his neck and drag him closer. When they pulled apart, it was with reluctance and Bond noted the sparkle in Q's eyes. He couldn't quite place why, but he was getting the feeling that Q wasn't used to being touched and held and kissed. If that was the case, Bond knew exactly what to do.  
"Q, can I take you home?"  
Q eyed him warily and Bond let out a hearty laugh.  
"Not for that reason. Just to make sure you get there safely because I'm not sure if you noticed, but the tubes have pretty much stopped running. Also, I can cook."  
Q thought about it for a moment before shrugging and saying,  
"Yes alright."  
"Lead the way."  
Q began walking and Bond trotted after him. When he came to Q's side, he reached down and took his slender hand that was mostly covered with a sweater in his own hand. Q looked down and their entwined fingers and smiled. The rain had mostly stopped and Bond had miraculously stayed mostly dry. Finally, they reached Q's apartment and once Q had disabled the alarms and security, he led Bond inside.  
"Sorry it isn't very clean. I hardly ever have guests. Actually... I never have guests."  
Bond looked around at the room and smiled. Everything smelled like Q and looked like Q and it just felt like the younger man was inside every bit of the flat. A tea mug still filled with tea sat on the table in the kitchen, three DVDs of Doctor Who sat on the table in front of the TV, the refrigerator was an odd green and there was a jumper thrown across the back of the couch. The rug was tan with green leaves swirling across it and the chandelier was a dark metal. A large window was placed in the living room with a magnificent view of the city and beyond. There was also a small window in the kitchen with a few little plants on its sill. Q noticed Bond staring at his odd decor and said,  
"Bond, I swear to God, if you even think about calling me a hipster so help me, your gun will fire backwards."  
"Wouldn't dream of it," responded Bond holding up his hands in mock surrender.  
"You were going to cook for me?" Asked Q, raising an eyebrow.  
"Yes right."  
"Kitchens over there."  
"Alright."  
"I'll be elsewhere."  
Bond sighed and smiled again before going into the kitchen and getting to work. Q had dried off from the rain, changed into his pajamas, and gotten through an episode and a half of David Tennant's doctor when Bond called him to the table. In front of him was something that Q couldn't quite place but whatever it was, it smelled and tasted delicious. After seconds of the meal each, they both washed the dishes together and Q invited Bond to stay over. It was 1 A.M. and it was more convenient that way. So, the two settled down on the couch and turned on some stupid crime show. Unconsciously, Q leaned into Bond and was met with two arms wrapping around him and pulling him closer. Surprised, he froze. But when he felt a hand gently rubbing circles across his back, he relaxed and leaned closer until his head was against a strong, scarred chest and his long arms were wrapped around a muscular torso. He sighed contentedly as Bond placed a gentle kiss to his mop of unruly dark hair. He felt his glasses being taken from his face and a blanket draped over his shoulders and as the night wore on, his eyes began to get tired and his brain went fuzzy with sleep. Bond just stroked his hair and placed gentle kisses across his face. Q felt that if he died that night, everything would be okay. He was content and warm and curled into the person he wanted to be with most in world. The street lights reflected off the wet pavement outside and cars splashed by. The moon was high in the sky and cast an eerie glow across the city of London. But all Q could see were two deep blue eyes looking down at him with something akin to love. That was the last image he saw before be slipped into the world of sleep and the land of dreams. The last thing he felt was a gentle hand carding through his hair and a soft kiss pressed to his lips.


End file.
